The Fate of Noxus
by lazsam
Summary: While Talon develops into a weapon, the Noxian's look to tip the balance of power. When the opportunity comes, Noxus is given a chance to strike Ionia securing their power in Runeterra; but when tragedy strikes and the Demacians are inspired, civil war and destruction loom over Noxus. Can Talon save the nation he despises?
1. Spiraling

**/AN: Hi everyone, I am rebooting a story I began several years ago. This is rated M for a reason and its not just because sex. It is gory and generally speaking awful things happen to people. Just to clear up some things, Taruk is indeed Talon as a very young child, approximately four years old.**

"Taruk," his mother began. "Taruk look at me. This is important. Don't open the door for - Are you listening to me?"

"I am mommy." Taruk promised.

"Do you open the door? Even if you think it is Merkel with his doggy? Or the milkman?" His mother questioned.

"I won't open the door for nobody, ma."

"For anyone sweety. And what do we do if we see the bad men?"

"Uh, we..." Taruk paused deep in thought.

"Your father will bolt the door, where do _we_ go?" She asked him gently.

"Out the window!"

"That's right. And then we are really good and walk slowly to the southwest gate and meet Dad by the real big tree."

"Right!" Taruk proclaimed. He and his mother hugged. She grabbed a book filled with big letters. "Can you tell me what sound each of these letters make?"

* * *

Later that morning, there was a slight drizzle outside and little rivulets of water poured along the edge of the street. Taruk was sitting by himself in the living room with his animal book. His mother, Savvia, was in the office. Taruk wasn't allowed in there, but he knew his mom would be practicing with her sword from the war.

She did that when she was anxious. His dad was out by the markets looking for day labor jobs. He had been a soldier too, but the military didn't like him anymore. He didn't play with swords like mom.

The cows in his book were smiling with great tufts of grass sticking out of their mouths. They made him wish he could try to eat grass, but there was only mud in his small section of the Noxian capital.

There was a rapt of knuckles on the door.

Milkman! Milkman!

Taruk tottled back to the training room and knocked on the door. "Mamma! Milkman! Milkman!" Savvia was landing a flip when Taruk knocked on the door. Her feet slapped the gym mat right as Taruk's tiny closed fist struck the door and his voice was hardly loud enough to get through the door.

The knock on the front door was louder this time. That's the last knock! No milk if you don't answer! Taruk tottled back to the front door, reached up and over his head for the door handle. As he pulled down on the handle he plopped backwards cracking open the door.

"Hi, little guy! Are you taking the milk order for mommy today?" The milkman smiled carrying the case of milk into the house and setting it on the coffee table in the center of the living room. "Tell your mum that I brought the newspaper inside, too."

The training room door creaked open. "Did I hear voices out here?" Savvia said smiling at the milkman. "Thank you!" She beamed. "Did you get the omni shilling from under the welcome mat? I hope you don't expect a tip for bringing in the paper!" She laughed as she walked the milkman out the door.

"Of course not, madam." The milkman said bowing extravagantly as he walked the rest of the way out of the door. "Have a good one, I'll see you next week!" He waved as he walked back to his wagon.

After Savvia had closed the door she scooped Taruk up into her arms. "What am I going to do with you, little man?"

"He was going to runaway. I like the milkman." Taruk retorted. Savvia only kissed him on the cheek and set him back down next to his book.

"It's very important we don't open the door Taruk. Promise me you won't do it again."

"I won't. I promise!"

"Pinky promise?"

They linked pinkies and shook on it. "That's a promise you can't break Taruk." Savvia said. "How about you go play in your room while I shower and then we can make your favorite lunch."

"Cookies!" Taruk exclaimed.

"I was thinking something more nutritious, but afterwards we can make some with a bit of the milk if you are feeling up to it."

* * *

"Where is your father?" Savvia wondered allowed as she paced up the hallway. "He hasn't been this late to anything since our wedding!" Savvia smiled as the words left her mouth. Takurn had been on time to the wedding, but it was the closest on time she had ever seen from him.

"I am going to drive myself crazy worrying." Savvia knelt down next to Taruk. "What kind of animal is this?" She pointed at a picture of an orange tabby house cat with a ridiculous pink and purple striped vest.

"Its a cat! They go meow."

"That's right! Don't you have a stuffed cat around here somewhere?" Savvia spun around in place and she and Taruk spotted it at the same time. Across the room by the coat hanger, next to the door. Taruk walked over and reached to pick it up when the door handle jiggled.

"Daddy!" Taruk reached up and pulled the door handle down and plopped back on to his bum pulling the door with him.

"Tar -".

The door was slammed open bashing into Taruk's face. His vision exploded with white and his eyes misted. His nose felt as big as a soccer ball and when he sucked in air it smelled like iron.

A large man barged in. He had an enormous beer belly and his jacket was too tight and wouldn't close entirely around him. Two more men, both in much better shape, followed behind Beer Belly. One had a menacing scar and the other was missing his left eye.

"Time's up, Mrs. Ferrus." Beer Belly bellowed.

"Taruk! Run!" Savvia urged.

Scarface reached down to scoop Taruk up, but at the last second Taruk scooted away. Savvia leapt to her feet and whipped the animal book at Scarface. "You wretch!" He roared. Savvia danced away from Eye patch as he lunged at her.

"Out the window Taruk!" Savvia pleaded.

"Mommy!" Taruk stumbled towards the hallway.

Beer Belly remained in the doorway, but Eye patch and Scarface were advancing on either side of Savvia. She faked left before swinging right at Scarface who danced backwards to avoid the two punches. Spinning on her toes she swung back to her left and elbowed Eye patch in the shoulder. He careened to the side, but maintained his footing.

"Taruk! Go to the window!" Savvia begged. Taruk was standing at the entrance to the hallway. "Taruk! Remember what -"

"That's enough talking for you babe." Scarface had closed the distance faster than she had expected. Savvia struggled in his chokehold. Her right arm was pinned to her side in the same grip that squeezed the air out of her, and her left flailed uselessly at the air. Scarface leaned backwards and lifted Savvia off the ground. Her feet kicked feebly against his legs.

"Mom!" Taruk cried out.

"Someone please shut that brat up!" Beer Belly groaned.

Eye patch started towards Taruk. And then, Takurn was there. Beer Belly still in the doorway. Scarface still throttling Savvia. Takurn whipped his elbow across his body and slammed it into Eye patch's temple. He dropped to the ground in a heap.

"Ah shit, of course the _great_ Takurn Ferrous is a mana sucker." Beer Belly sighed. He opened his palm and held it out towards Takurn. The ring on his pinky finger glowed purple and then quickly changed to blue. Blue wisps boiled off of Takurn's skin and his movement became sluggish as he attempted to reach Scarface.

Beer Belly moved his other hand in a roughly triangle pattern, but nothing happened. "I can never remember the pattern!" Beer Belly exclaimed. Takurn swung at Scarface who barely managed to turn out of the way of the blow still holding Savvia.

Beer Belly drew an arrow in the air. A light beam burned through the air in the direction of his extended palm. The beam itself burned a hole clean through the wall of the hovel. The air around the beam was distorted and anything it touched was set ablaze. Including Takurn's coat.

Scarface dropped Savvia in a heap on the floor and turned to face Takurn.

He shrugged it off hardly even wincing revealing the angry red flesh of his left arm. With his right arm he redirected Scarface's strong right. He bobbed his head left to avoid a jab and then another beam of light burned through the air igniting his pants leg, the coffee table, and the floor in front of Taruk.

Takurn groaned in pain and collapsed down to his good leg.

Scarface drew his sword from his scabbard and it glinted in the air as it arced downwards. It sank into Takurn's right shoulder. Scarface ripped the blade free. Another beam of light burned through the air. This time it was directed at the roof. Smoke plumed through the open hole and fire engulfed the walls.

Scarface brought his blade down again chopping through Takurn's shoulder.

This time Savvia screamed and leapt from the ground with a small knife clenched in her fist. She slammed it into Beer Belly's eye. He fell backwards and out of the door screaming with his hands against his face.

Takurn fell forwards dead. Taruk braved the patches of flames and tottled towards him. "Daddy!" He sobbed.

Savvia spun around to face Scarface barely avoiding his sword slash. Scarface punched her with his left palm. The air flew from her chest and she collapsed to the ground gasping. Scarface dropped his sword onto the ground.

He pulled Savvia up by her armpits and stared into her eyes. "You've got a lot of -". Savvia spat in his face. "You better play nice if you want to see another sunrise." He growled.

"Fuck you!" Savvia screamed. "Fuck you! Fuck-" Scarface dropped her onto the ground and and clamped one hand over her mouth pinning her with his knees. His other hand was on the flat of her stomach. Savvia's eyes danced about her surroundings desperately for something or someone that wasn't there.

Scarface's hand lifted underneath her shirt and explored up the smooth skin of her waist following the curve of her body towards her breast. One of his fingers clamped over her mouth slipped inside.

She bit it off. Blood sprayed everywhere. Scarface bellowed in pain and his other hand dug into Savvia's skin before he wrenched it away tearing through her shirt in the process. He punched at her eye, he broke her nose, and then punched her temple.

Savvia's screams were cut off under the barrage.

"God damn it! That mother fucker!"

"Mom!" Taruk sobbed.

Taruk stood between his parents with a broken face. He held Scarface's sword. It was as big as he was and pretty heavy. He could not swing it fast enough. Scarface dodged away before ripping the sword from his grasp by hitting the flat of the blade. He kicked Taruk in the ribs dropping him to the ground.

"Terance are you going to get the fuck up?" Scarface kicked at the collapsed form of eye patch. Terance groaned and slowly got to his feet amongst the smoke and blood.

"What the fuck happened in here? The hell are we going to tell them?"

"That you got knocked bloody unconscious, I lost a finger, and the sarge got facial reconstruction to match you. We have to get what they bloody owe. Nobody gives a shit about a couple of poormen ilk."

"Okay, we can sell the boy. The rat pen's will take him for a couple hundred omni's. That's enough. Is the sarge going to make it?"

"I think he has accidentally killed himself trying to remove the dagger from his eye." Scarface said kicking the aforementioned dagger still in Beer Belly's face. Beer Belly didn't even grunt, so dead is dead.

"Looks like somebody is getting promoted. Grab the kid. I need to wrap my finger up."

**/PS Thank you for reading thus far. I would really appreciate any feedback you have to offer. Talon (Taruk) begins his coming of age story now and next chapter will hopefully flesh out the Noxian world and will introduce Riven. The next chapter will be released Sunday, June 30th or earlier depending on my writing zeal :). **


	2. The Blades of Noxus

**/AN: Welcome back everyone. Here is the next installment of the Fate of Noxus. I just want to thank you for viewing my story. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2. The Three Blades of Noxus**

Three men sat around a large table. The grand chairs they sat on had their family crests draped over their backs. The house of the Darkwill's in the center on the most elaborate chair, the house of the Swain's on the right and the house of Du Couteau on the left. The three blades of Noxus, Evant Darkwill, Jericho Swain, and Marcus Du Couteau respectively.

"I agree, Evant, don't get me wrong." Jericho began. "Ionia's navy is being allowed to deteriorate and their standing army has always been small. They are ripe. But you-"

"Yes! So let us strike them. With their iron mines to supplement our own and-"

"There is no point in it. The Demacians will never let us have enough time to appropriately subdue the populous of the island." Marcus interjected.

"Hmm..." Evant rubbed at his lower jaw with his hand, one elbow on the map table they all now stared at. "So then, we need Demacia to be… preoccupied."

Marcus tapped his fingers the table which happened to be over the icy wastes occupied by the Freljordians. There had to be a use for them. The barbarians didn't really have an army or even a gripe with Demacia, but they didn't have a problem raiding a couple towns. Lord knows they liked to ruffle Noxian feathers.

"I've got it! We provide incentive to the barbarians to attack the Demacians. The Demacians will be forced to bring some of their forces and patrol the border towns -" Marcus started explaining his plan, but even as he said it he knew it wouldn't be enough.

"I don't think that will be enough." Swain cautioned. Marcus nodded in assent and the two men shared a smile. Swain knew Marcus had a quick mind, sometimes he just had to say things out loud to hear the flaw in it. But Marcus had given him an idea, if they could find an avenue.

"We need to spark some kind of internal strife. They have got to have some sort of internal strife. When the new Jarvan was coronated the nobles practically had full fledged militias parading about." Swain pondered allowed.

"King Jarvan did increase the levy size from each noble house. " Evant supplied.

"Now that I am thinking about it, I think he also raised taxes on the nobles to assuage the commoners." Marcus added.

"But would a noble revolt be enough?"

"It could work. I'm not sure how much of their levies make up the demacian army. Plus the Crownguards wouldn't defect and they make up a large portion of the elite units command structure."

"We need more information!" Evant declared. "Marcus I want you on top of this. I want troop numbers for each house and I want you to rate them on their likelihood to stand up to the crown."

"Of course."

"Swain -" A knock on the door on the other side of the chamber interrupted Evant. "Damn it. I told them no interruptions." Evant grumbled. "Enter!"

"Lord Darkwi-"

"Address the Omnipotent as such." Swain interrupted.

"Yes sir. Sorry sir. Your Omnipotence, the -"

"I appreciate your concern Swain, but I never cared much for the old high lords title. Lord Darkwill is fine in my court." Evant looked at Swain long enough to know there were no hard feelings and then flicked his eyes back to the messenger. "Continue, lad."

"The ambassadors from Zaun are waiting for you in the palace courtyard."

"I see. Give them the full tour. I will speak with them at three."

"Yes sir."

The boy walked from the middle of the large room back to the enormous doors which he closed gently without even a squeak.

"A four hour wait Evant? That is quite brutal." Swain laughed. Marcus and Evant joined in. That was just the nature of it.

"Do you think Piltover will let them split away peacefully?" Marcus asked.

"If I give them the full support of Noxus they will. It is going to be an easy negotiation table."

"May I attend that meeting?" Swain asked. "I have always been curious how these sorts of talks go."

"Of course, and if you can't think of any concessions we should ask from them besides autonomous vassalage let me know." Evant laughed at the end.

"Exquisite. If you will excuse me, I have some things I would like to wrap up at home before the negotiation table calls."

"Hold on old boy. I was going to say something before that young man came in here. Give me a moment to think about it… I had just told Marcus to begin investigating Demacia for weaknesses..." He was back to rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Ah, that's right. I want you to look into the Freljordian thing."

"I really don't think that will help..." Swain trailed off. "Unless you are thinking of starting up with the Freljordians once the rebellion is in full swing. Yes." Swain pointed at Evant cheerfully. "That - That will work."

"All right then. You're both dismissed."

"I don't suppose either of you gentleman would like to go grab a bite to eat?"

"I can't go anywhere anymore. Being The Omnipotent creates a hell of a lot of attention." Evant sighed.

"Actually, Marcus, I think I have time." Swain said as they walked towards the grand doors. The great oak swung out as they approached under no power of their own. Mana batteries, a recent advent allowed for a lot of pleasantries.

"Just like old times then!" The two men strolled down the Noxian palace halls towards the city. It had been quite a long time since they had had a chance to walk amicably. Presently, they strolled along a hallway with small offices on the right and grand arches to the left opened into a beautiful garden. From where they walked they could only see an elegant fountain and yellow black eyed susans through the trees.

"It's good Kat and Cass are getting along well. It seems like only yesterday that we left the field positions behind us and took the reigns from our fathers. My gods. Then you settled down with Cassandra." Swain paused respectfully and squeezed Marcus's shoulder. "I went and knocked up the damn hooker..."

Marcus smiled. "How's that going nowadays anyway?"

"I haven't really been keeping track… I know I know. Keep the steel out of your eyes shit. Nobody is even supposed to know. It is a stupid risk allowing a bastard heir to live as it is. His mother is a fuck up though. I think I am going to try and get him in the Academy as soon as I can."

"That's a hard life."

"C'est la vie." Swain replied. "At least he will have one. It is prestigious and great things can come of it if you're strong. And he is. The boy was almost twice the size of the others his age last I checked in on him."

"That's good. For what it's worth I understand." They walked in a brief silence.

"Alright, back to business."

"Okay, let's get back to it."

They said almost simultaneously and shared a smile.

Taruk's eyes fluttered open.

"What happened to your face?"

He didn't want to think about what happened to his face.

He tried to say, "Where am I?" But it came out as gibberish.

"Hey kid! What's your name?"

He didn't want to think about his name.

"Looks like he doesn't know how to talk!" "Didn't your mama teach you how to talk before she dropped you here?"

He sure as shit didn't want to think about his mom.

"I bet his daddy went to get cigs and never came back."

His dad was shot twice with light beams and his arm was cut off. He squeezed his eyes shut.

"Struck a chord there James!"

"I am going to do more than that!" James threatened as he loomed over Taruk.

Taruk stood up screaming. His eyes were red and puffy. He wobbled back and forth, but realized none of the others were big kids either. They all tottled around, but talked big. "I'm gonna gut you!" James hollered.

He of course didn't have anything to gut Taruk with. The room they were in appeared to be that of a barn with all the animal pens taken out. At least thirty kids occupied the space and a good portion of them were looking his way.

Even at his young age he recognized the situation. He clenched his fists. James threw a wild right hook towards Taruk's head. Like most of people Taruk had seen move, James' arm was sluggish as if pushing water in the air. Taruk moved to duck and his sides erupted in pain. He lost his balance and fell on his side.

He didn't have to wonder what hurt. It felt like he could feel each individual rib explode. Disregarding the pain he swept James' legs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a dull thud. Dust floated in the air.

"James can't even beat on the kid with the broken face!"

Taruk crawled away with one arm and clutching at his now aching pain since the sharp exploding pain eased away.

"I don't think so!" Another boy was pulling him back by his leg. He held his head up off the ground as the kid dragged him. And then there was a hand pushing the back of his head down. His vision danced around him and the pain of his nose was immense.

Taruk rolled onto his side and the child leaning down to push his head fell onto his outstretched hand. A girl shoved him from behind and he sprawled onto the ground.

"Stay out of this Sandra!" Yet another boy attempted to grab her from behind, but she moved quickly to avoid his strike. The girl, Sandra, didn't move with the same awkwardness as the rest of them.

Taruk still being dragged, but now on his back kicked at his attacker with his other foot and managed to connect with his opponents wrist.

After everyone struggled to their feet Taruk and Sandra were facing three less than ready to fight boys. "Well, I think we know where everyone stands now." Sandra commented.

"This isn't over!" James proclaimed.

"Maybe you wait to fight an opponent until all his bones are intact toothless." James was only missing one of his baby teeth, but it wasn't a good look.

The gang of troublesome boys turned away to their own corner leaving Sandra and Taruk in relative isolation. "Hi! My name's Sandra. Sandra extended her hand to him."

"I - My name is -"

_His mother screamed his name, "Taruk! The window!"_

_Taruk!_

"My name is Taruk." He spat it out. He distracted himself by getting a better look around him. The floor was covered in dust and a fine layer of hay. The edges of the barn had larger build ups of hay and some of the kids had congregated into small little groups.

"I'm sorry," Sandra started giggling, "But did you say Karuk?" Sandra was proving to be annoying. She had a strong face with high cheekbones. Her red hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. She had her arms crossed and her face had a, you can't be serious look on.

"What?! No! I said Tar-uk!"

"Everybody here is going to call you Karuk for sure. That's like being called Yankee doolittle in Demacia." She laughed.

"Well Taruk is my name and anyone that wants to discuss it can eat shit." He said seriously. "Do you know where we are?"

"They call it the rat pens. I've been here for a long time, but I think I remember living on a farm with my mum and dad. Did your mamma use the pipe like they were saying?"

"No." Taruk replied indignantly.

"Well, even if she did, you'd be in the same boat as them." Sandra sniffed disdainfully. "They don't act like a real Noxian." Taruk wasn't so sure.

"What happened to you anyway?" Sandra said looking at his face and his arm still holding his side. Not to mention the sound of his labored breathing.

_The door slammed with a flash of white. The kick lifting him off the air and evaporating his consciousness._

"The bad men. I opened the door for the bad men."

"Oh."

Life in the barn was dull. Everyday around noon a caretaker would enter on a walkway in the ceiling and stock bins full of food. Then they would be lowered simultaneously and a first come first serve system was initiated. Many times kids would stagger away from the bins arms loaded with food and it would be ripped from their clutches by others.

Most kids existed in groups amongst one another and each group would generally maintain a single bin. Then a pecking order established inside each group would be followed. Taruk had joined the same group Sandra was in. They were all quiet kids. There was Dave, Jasper, Sandra, Corkin, and of course Taruk.

They had already established a claim to the last bucket in the line and they generally sat around it most hours of the day. At first Taruk was too weak to help and Corkin in particular resented the extra mouth to feed, but Sandra who normally got a larger than normal share offered to supply Taruk a chunk of her allowance and Jasper pitched in too.

Now Taruk was strong enough to participate in the daily battle. Once the bucket descended Dave would leap to it and load his arms full of food. Taruk, Jasper, and Sandra would stand around the bucket protecting it while Corkin would walk back and forth with Dave to transport all the food to the front right corner of the barn. Then they would take turns eating a mouthful.

Taruk had lost track of how many times he had repeated this routine now. Except today was different. The barn doors shuddered open instead and the bright daylight blasted through the opening. Outside in the courtyard were four older kids. Three boys and a girl. All of them were huddled together against a large wood fence that circled the perimeter of the field.

The rest was strangely empty of other children.

"It's true!" James shouted.

The four older kids approached the group. "You fuckers listening? I don't want to repeat myself to a bunch of seven year olds." The largest of the old kids barked.

"We are getting our tickets late so that I can pass on these delightful words of encouragement from the Rat Whisperer himself. Fuck you guys!" The older kid flipped the bird with both hands and the gang retreated back to the shade by the fence.

"I heard that they take all the big kids to fight in the gladiator pits and then let out all us in the barn." Someone said in a hushed voice.

"That doesn't even make sense Chuk!" Another voice whispered.

"I think they take them to the army," Sandra whispered next to him.

The barn was towards the back of the large pen. The floor of the enclosure was trampled dirt and due to the recent rains it was especially muddy. Small wooden structures were evenly spaced along the fence. In total there appeared to be close to a hundred.

Jame's and crew were already walking around the side of the barn and towards the rear fence wall. "We should look for a place." Taruk said looking around at the square walls of the compound.

"I want to be by the main gate!" Sandra announced.

"Great idea!" Jasper agreed immediately and Dave nodded his ascent.

Corkin wasn't paying attention. "How do they deliver food out here?" Taruk wondered. "We don't want to set up in a bad spot."

"That's a good point." Sandra looked gratefully his way. The five of them stared about the compound. There was only one entrance and it was a large gate that slid from right to left on large wheels. There was no lock on the inside, but through the cracks they could make out large bars sliding into the support posts on the other side.

They slowly walked around the edge of the enclosure passing Kayla's group setting up on the side wall. They seemed to be debating who would get which dog house. As they drew closer to the rear of the barn they could see Jame's group milling about.

"Hey! Get lost!" One of the girls, Lucille, shouted. Her voice was high pitched and slightly nasally, but it got the attention of the rest of her gang. All their heads turned and watched Taruk and Sandra.

Taruk didn't pay them much mind. He was staring at the second entrance into the pen. It was much smaller and was only three feet from the back of the barn. It was also right where Jame's group had set up shop.

On the back of the barn their was a metal ladder that stopped five feet from the ground. A lock held the remaining five feet up, but once the key is turned it would allow someone up to the top of the barn. So, at least some food came through there. Not getting a close spot to the food could be helpful when it came to defending what they managed to get. They also had a decent system in place for transporting food.

Assuming that all the food was brought in through here. Taruk had his doubts. It just didn't seem right. It might be an access point to bring in the young kids and their food though. That could be.

"I am going to talk to Ms. Fuck You. They'll know whats up."

"Are you crazy Taruk? They will shove your crooked nose up your damn face." Corkin laughed at the absurdity of his suggestion.

"I don't think that is such a good idea T." Jasper said.

"Well, I think we could get useful information by talking to them." Sandra responded.

"Sandra's right. We should go talk with them." Dave agreed tugging on the back of his shirt.

"Shut up Dave. You always agree with Sandra." Jasper complained

As it turned out they didn't get to talk to Ms. Fuck You, but they did get to see how the new big kids were brought in. As they were walking back to the front of the compound the big front gate squealed open and a horse drawn wagon rumbled into the field. An old man got out of the driver's seat and climbed into the back. A young man in the passenger seat stood up on the frame of the wagon with a long whip.

He cracked it in the air and the sound was deafening this close. "Back off kiddies!" The old man in the back rolled three boys and a girl off the back of the wagon. They hit the ground with a thud.

They all looked a little malnourished and were dressed in rags. It was apparent, despite the malnourishment, that they were older kids. At least two years older.

The old man stooped down and hauled a large sack over the edge of the cart. When it hit the ground a loaf of bread escaped from the mouth of the bag. A brief silence held the compound and then all hell broke loose.

The old man lumbered about the wagon. Yet another sack was dropped over the edge. These were large sacks of bread.

Then another. A stunned silence followed. And then a cheer erupted, because they all would be eating tonight.

They didn't bring food again for four days.

**/AN: Thanks for reading! I hope you are enjoying thus far and that the plot I set up has caught your interest. Sandra is in fact Riven and her red hair will be explained eventually, I promise. I know the nicknames and the like may seem unnecessary and tiresome, and my sincerest apologies to you the reader. In my opinion, their champion names are in fact nicknames and I hope to give a little bit of story to explain how they come to them. Of course, Darius and Katarina are names that I feel were given by parents and don't require a back story. **


	3. The Hand of Noxus

Jericho Swain was a busy man. He was also an angry man. It was a side of him that he didn't let anyone else see, and it was a side of him that the ladies of the night had grown all too familiar with.

He stalked down the "main road" of the red light district. It was on Eight Spear street which put it eight blocks from Tenth Sword and ten further from Fifth Dagger. That made it especially unsavory, especially brutal, and a land of strength.

It was also where his cursed son lived.

Tonight was worse than usual. He wasn't here for pleasure. He wasn't lustful, hateful, and jealous. No, tonight, Jericho was the cold and calculating general the rest of Noxus was more familiar with, but the familiar sights and sounds stirred him deep within. But it had to be caged for he had a plan.

The Dark Swan didn't try to hide the fact that it was a brothel. Red lights hung from an overhanging balcony and the establishment's letters were in a rich purple with pink accents. Two girls stood leaning on the wall by the main entrance blocking a large artistic picture of the female form.

Both of the hookers bowed low and avoided making eye contact as Jericho Swain, second most powerful man in Noxus, brushed past them. The monster inside of, the lustful, hateful beast sprang at his mental barriers, but he would remain strong. At least until he could direct his son's whoremother to begin the first part of what he expected would be a ten year plan.

Nobody stopped him as he walked past the bar and pushed through the doors marked employees only. He walked back to her room and knocked on the door.

"My Lord, most excellent, Swain!" The woman cowered before him. She always knew how to unleash him. To entice him. Again, he buried his… desire.

"Wench! I don't have time for your eccentricities! Where is _my_ boy?" Jericho demanded. His eyes searched the small room. A single twin bed filled most of the space. The rest was occupied by the small desk covered in makeup and body paint. An enormous mirror hung above it on the wall.

"He… was. I sent him. I couldn't keep taking care of him, my Lord!" She trembled as his eyes flashed. "He was getting to be eight years old -"

He grabbed her throat and cut her off. "I don't want to hear EXCUSES WOMAN!" His hand tightened on her throat. "I want to know where my son is!" He had begun to shake the woman. And… she was gagging. "He needs to be groomed!" He shook her by the neck. He needs to be turned into a soldier!" She was dead. "An assassin! A trusted right hand!"

Jericho Swain's chest rose and fell like bellows. His eyes glowed red. His hands were almost clawlike. His heart deafened his mind.

"DAMN IT! Damn this burden. This gift is as two faced as it is overwhelming!" He slumped against a wall. His breathing turned ragged and his eyes returned to their dark brown.

"Where would a whore like here send a son she can't feed?" He wondered as he light nudged her lifeless body with his foot.

He would think it over. And, he would figure it out, but not tonight. He had a mess to clean and a long night's rest ahead of him. He walked back into the main brothel space. There were plenty of potential candidates that would fill the purpose he needed. Tonight he was kind and found a tall red haired woman who would have, at one point, been beautiful, but now had a poorly healed broken nose and an eyepatch. She was also starting to look old and worn out.

"Hello Miss," Jericho Swain said as he came up to her. She eyed him with more distrust than fear. She was right to not be afraid. "I need a small royal favor..." He rolled two gold coins over his knuckles.

"I don't do Royal favors. That's fer the new ones." She said before hastily adding, "My lord."

"I'll make it worth your while." After trapping the coins on his knuckles he opened his palm to reveal four more.

Her eyes trained on the coins. They glanced back at the man she was dealing with. One Jericho Swain with a reputation for cruelty a mile long. He felt her mull it over. She took the coins.

"It's in room 3 in the employee only area." He thumbed behind him towards the bar. The woman hastily disembarked probably without being able to believe her luck at having survived an encounter. Only a few did and, eventually, like Melissa, he caught up with them. Luckilly he had a plan for this one already.

He left the Dark Swan and walked down the street back towards the looming skull atop the citadel's main spire. He only got two blocks, to Sixth Spear, when he found the thugs he was looking for.

"I've got a job for you young men." Jericho Swain said calmly walking into their midst.

"Oh yeah? You got a job for us? Yeah? I think I might have a job for you asshole!" A man on the curb hackled. Unperturbed by his friend's silence in the usual smack talk common among the gang, the man got up from his spot on the curb and puffed out his chest. Swain turned to face him and the man's eyes grew as large as saucers.

"Beat him." Swain ordered. The gang hesitated for only a moment before pouncing on the curb man. After less than a minute the man had been smashed into the street and even without good light it was evident his leg was broken. Blood ran down his nose and one eye was swollen shut.

"As I was saying," Swain coughed to draw the gangsters attention from their friend beaten to within an inch of his life, "I have a job for you. Go to the Dark Swan and wait for a tall red haired woman with a broken nose. Kill her." Swain flipped two coins into the air and they fell on the dying man's chest. "She will have sixth of those."

He pushed through the throng of men and continued down the street furious that tonight had been so fruitless.

* * *

Taruk sat with his back against the outer fence and facing the gates. He held a rock in one hand and grinded it against a flat rock between his legs. Rock knives had completely changed the dynamic in the Rat Pens and now the only way to secure the bread was mutually assured destruction.

"Ya know we have an extra dozen of those right T?" Jasper said walking up to him.

"Yeah, well, it's something to do. I have already sparred Corkin and Dave twice each today." Taruk replied.

"Sandra has you all looney in the head. You'll all be indoctrinated soldiers before they even send us into the army." Jasper commented as he plopped down beside him with a roll of three day old bread. Tomorrow, Taruk knew, they would be getting more.

Taruk grinded the edge of the stone and pressed so hard it chipped. "I am _not_ joining any army." He continued his destructive sharpening even though the blade was ruined. It jostled and bumped as he dragged it across the rock.

"Even if you manage to come up with an escape plan Sandra would never go with us." Jasper continued. Taruk opened his mouth and then closed it again. He was right. Sandra went starry eyed when the Noxian army was even mentioned off hand.

"Us? So you think we would all be running away?" Taruk questioned. Still dragging the broken blade against the rock.

"Well yeah. We are in this thing together. All of us." Jasper declared.

"I think Dave and Corkin will go wherever Sandra is. I just don't get what is so good about the army to her." Taruk drove the edge across the stone. Jasper most ignored his blade work.

"She has just swallowed the medicine they give us." Jasper said shaking a leaflet that was on the ground. Hundreds more were scattered across the compound. The cover was three Noxian soldiers. A woman stood on the right with her chin raised and a spear planted into the ground. Besider her a man with a towering shield faced front and center, a sword stretched out to his side highlighted in red. On the left, a smaller, more agile looking man stood with a hood casting his face in darkness and a bow drawn back. His thumb rested on his cheek. The most interesting thing was his cloak. It was torn into strips.

"She is too smart to drool over that bullshit."

"Maybe she wants something to believe in."

"Well, she should be more like us, and believe in ourselves." Taruk complained again, tossing the destroyed blade to the side.

"More like you." Jasper amended. "I don't believe I could even attempt to sneak into the main building like you do."

They fell into silence. Taruk grabbed another rock and Jasper left to spar Corkin.

As it reached midday Taruk left for the relative shelter of his dog house. It was a cramped space getting more cramped. At ten years old Taruk was a fair bit larger than most dogs and the papers and knives did little to help the situation. For now, it sufficed, but his restlessness was growing as he grew stronger.

He flipped through the papers. They were schedules of all sorts. Food delivery schedules. Guard and staff schedules. Event schedules. And while these were the fruits of his labors they were not the gem. They were not the jewel by half.

As he carefully dug through the papers he felt the hilt of his dagger. It was still there. Still real. It was a promise to escape that no one, not even Sandra, knew he had.

It wasn't why he was here though. He sorted through the papers and found the small short story. He had found it last night. The night after Jerome had been stabbed in the gut. The story was too plain, and too simple, but he knew Jerome would listen to it and like it all the same.

As he crawled out of the dog house the front gate of the courtyard opened and a carriage arrived with more kids on board. The courtyard erupted into a flurry of activity to prepare for the new arrivals. He spotted Sandra's red hair bobbing through the crowd towards the wagon, but he didn't chase after her. Instead he went to Jerome's dog house.

"Hi Jerome," Taruk knocked on the side of the doghouse as he entered.

"Taruk." Jerome coughed into his hand. His face was too pale and sweat shone on his brow. Jerome's dog house was littered with papers that Taruk had brought him. Some from last year and some from two years ago. And some still, newer than that.

"How are you feeling?" Taruk said as he squirmed his way into the small shelter and tried to inspect Jerome's wound.

Jerome managed a weak smile, but before he could respond he coughed again. "I'm not in good shape am I?" He finally managed.

"You'll be fine." Taruk replied almost effortlessly, but very rehearsed to his ears. "I have seen much worse." Only those died immediately.

"I brought you a new story, but if you want I can read you a different one." Taruk said cheerily. "It is about a wolf in a cage."

"Is it called The Direwolf's Revenge?"

"Yeah, it is - You've heard it?" Taruk said slightly crestfallen. Last night had been a _late _night for this book.

"It was my father's favorite. It was one of the first books I learned to read… I would very much like to listen to it again."

The Direwolf's Revenge

The people came day after day. They poked and prodded.

They hooted and hollered. They laughed and cheered.

The Direwolf paced. The Direwolf snarled.

The Direwolf lunged. The people applauded.

A dirt field Coliseum. Stone walls rose.

Bleachers filled with a weak crowd.

A direwolf in the field. Blood of an enraged beast before him.

Blossoms twirled through the sky like pink swirling stars.

Each slaughter the crowd grew.

Each slaughter the Direwolf hated.

And then. A marbled Coliseum. Stone Floors.

A countless sea of people staring down.

Down from higher than the trees.

The great direwolf stalked into the arena.

Across from it. A great albion elk.

Driven mad and beaten bloody. It charged with abandon.

Its head thrashed from side to side. It's hooves thundered.

It's great horns tore through the air like sword blades.

The Direwolf sat on its haunches.

And howled as it died.

"That is a shitty story." Taruk exclaimed. "How did he get revenge? He didn't do anything other than die." Taruk spoke wretchedly.

"The story IS pretty bad." Jerome laughed. "But, it was the first story I remember reading with my parents." A tear was running down his cheek. Decidedly un-noxian. "And the wolf does get its revenge in the end."

"How? How is there any vengeance here?"

"It's all about perspective. The wolf's vengeance wasn't bloody or vicious. It was in defiance of the purpose it served. At the grandest arena. With tens of thousands of people. The wolf showed them that a beast can have more will, strength, and defiance than any man."

"Maybe." Taruk scoffed. He would _never _**ever** be that wolf. He patted Jerome's shoulder, "I am going to gut the kid that did this to you." His mind went to James and the satisfaction he would feel when he rammed a blade through his stomach. He didn't hear Jerome's objection, but he wouldn't have cared if he had.

When he left Jerome in his doghouse he found Sandra approaching with a grin on her face and a monstrous kid walking behind her. The "Kid" was probably a couple years older than anyone else in the compound. At least 13. He had a rough face, and fierce eyes. Behind him a smaller boy of perhaps seven walked behind him.

"Taking in more strays Sandra?" Taruk smirked as she glanced back to the boy looming behind her.

"I wouldn't call him a stray." Sandra laughed. "His name is Darius, and this is his half brother Draven." Darius stode past Sandra in a few steps before reaching Taruk. He stuck out his hand.

"Good to meet you." Taruk shook on it. There wasn't much else to do. Darius had a presence of authority that demanded respect. His hair was still short and cropped. His chin was high and people from all over the clearing glance their way.

"I figure with Jerome out of action-" Sandra began.

"He will die." Taruk interrupted grimly.

"-and, " she continued with an irritated glance his way, "we haven't had anyone stick around with us very long since Jerome joined up." Not if he had any say in the matter Taruk thought to himself.

"You don't have to convince me to take this Brute." Taruk agreed. "Let's go introduce you to what's left of us." Taruk turned around facing back towards the dog houses and sought out Dave and Corkin. He found them easily enough, leaning back against the fences.

"We got the new guy and he looks like a fighter!" Taruk approached them, Darius, Sandra, and Draven in tow.

"Damn, ain't he a big sonuvabitch." Dave said as he pushed off the wall. Corkin was quick to follow on his heels.


	4. The Soldier and the Assassin

**/AN: Hi everyone. I guess one of the perks of quarantine is more time to write. I am sorry about the pacing though. I had originally planned to be much further along in the story by now, but I guess I underestimated how much I wanted to detail this out. lol**

**4\. The Soldier and the Assassin**

Six years ago, when he was first appointed as the head of the Du Couteau household, Marcus would have thought of this task as beneath him. But six years had quickly changed his expectations and he had begun longing for the dark nights, with only bursts of thunderous lightning to choose his path.

Quiet steps, misdirection, knives, assassination, information gathering, those were the tools of a dangerous and powerful man. Certainly not shuffling papers, pounding door knocks, terse meetings, and ledgers that dominated his life in recent times.

Which was why he was quick to take Evant Darkwill's orders personally. He had grinned ear to ear through his preparations. He researched each house, even the crown guards to look for cracks and weaknesses to exploit and like any noble court they were all rearing to fight one another, the king, or both.

House Laurent, led by Sebastian Laurent, could be an option. The man was a famous swordsman with a known desire for more influence within the kingdom. The Crownguard, as the name implied, appeared to be staunchly loyal to the throne, but there had to be something…or some gripe with them as well. House Buvelle was a bit of a mystery, Lestara Buvelle seemed to be an eccentric widow and the noble line seemed to be on the brink of disintegration.

And with his research from a far yielding so few results he had taken additional steps, literally. Today, he was a humble servant in training at the House Laurent. He strode down the halls fetching a prim tea set and two rather exorbitantly decorated dolls for the Lady Lyre who oversaw young Lady Laurent's daily exercises. The dolly rattled as he pushed it down the spacious halls, with fanciful tapestries and large windows facing the sun.

He reached Lady Lyre's specified location earlier than he had originally anticipated after easily finding the dolls and after a brief knock let himself into the room. His jaw gaped. Young Lady Fiora, no more than eight, perhaps only a year older than his own daughter, held a rapier against her thirteen year old brother. Who turned to glare at him as he entered.

"My apologies young master!" He made a hasty bow and attempted to leave the room quickly. That didn't make any sense. The Demacians were very strict in how they follow their rules. The girl should not have been playing with swords and he knew that a proper servant in training would certainly report such an activity. His mind raced with how to exploit such knowledge, but at present he could think of nothing.

But he would.

He leaned back against the wall with his dolly beside him, humming a cheerful tune. To be a Demacian one had to do some despicable things.

Lady Lyre bustled down a staircase at the end of the hall holding her skirts with one hand as she descended. As she approached he bowed.

"Lady Lyre, I am in your service as requested." Marcus said.

"Not quite as requested, Master Stevant. I asked for you to leave the toys in the room, and then wait outside. Not leave yourself and your dolly out blocking half the hallway." She turned her nose up at him as she billowed past turning into the room. His eyes slid to the hall where there was more than enough space for a carriage to roll through. He rolled his eyes and waited for the outrage from the Lady.

When none was forthcoming he shrugged and brought the dolly into the room. "Do you make a habit of incompetence Master Stevant?" She questioned as he maneuvered the dolly carefully into the room.

"No Mistress, it won't happen again. I was - " Marcus attempted to excuse himself, but was interrupted by the insufferable woman.

"I don't need to hear your sob story. I want to know where Miss Puggs is." Miss Puggs? He wanted to know how that young man escaped the room without leaving through the only entrance. No windows, not even a sunroof, or curtains to hide behind.

"Are you listening to me Master Stevant?"

This time the Fiora rescued him from more explaining. "Miss Lyre, I don't _want_ to play with dolls. That's for little kids!"

Lady Lyre huffed. "If you don't want your morning recess you will endure your lessons for the court. That will teach you to enjoy your free time." Marcus hardly thought scheduled tea time with dolls counted as free time, but he wasn't going to say anything about it.

"Master Stevant, go fetch the young miss her court histories and find the Pianist!" Marcus had to force himself not to grin from ear to ear. Vague demands like finding the pianist were the perfect excuse for a new servant in training to find himself lost in the admittedly confusing complex of rooms and passages that made the Laurent family manor complex.

"Certainly Lady Lyre."

* * *

They sat huddled in between, around, and on top of their dog houses. When Darius had learned of what had happened to Jerome he was all business about getting revenge. He wanted to know numbers, and weapons. Who was good at fighting, who wasn't and who would be on which side. To Taruk, those measured seemed like overkill. He didn't care about Liandra and her gang or Kayla and her crew.

Taruk didn't even care about the members of Jame's group. He just wanted to gut James and be done with it. No one would risk more than that because another group could intervene and come out on top.

Darius had won out though. Mostly because Sandra thought he was a genius and David and Corkin thought she was The Omnipotent. He and Jasper were left out as the cowards who didn't want to fight. Which was ridiculous and he would prove it tomorrow.

He had to admit that Darius had come into the group like a hand into a familiar and well used glove. When Jerome had died only three days after Darius joined them he had sworn vengeance. Darius and Sandra had been plotting ever since. The trick was to guarantee that the other gangs wouldn't interfere. The Rat Pens management might intervene, but they wouldn't punish anyone. They would simply stop the violence and preserve their investments.

"Kayla says she won't interfere in exchange for half a bread sack and eight stone knives." Corkin was saying as Taruk returned to the conversation.

"But Liandra hasn't been giving us any definite answers." Jasper chimed in.

"Tell her," Taruk began, "that she can have half the spoils from what's left of Jame's food and knives. That should convince her to stay out if not out right join in with us, right? The power dynamic will also stay about the same with the three remaining groups about even."

"What about the loners?" Dave asked.

Taruk tried to answer, but Sandra beat him to it. "There are over a hundred kids in here. A half dozen gangs and a bunch of little groups, but we only need to worry about the ones nearby. Since we are in a corner Kayla will be between us and anyone along the right fence and if we can secure Liandra that should protect most of the fighting area from outsiders."

Taruk didn't miss the approving look Darius gave Sandra as she gave her explanation, but he did miss Sandra looking to him for confirmation.

Darius looked at Taruk, "We do this tomorrow at noon when the bread comes. With or without Liandra." It did not sound like a question.

"Noon, then." Taruk agreed. Darius just expected to be obeyed. To say it grated on Taruk was an understatement. He stalked off to a side wall and grabbed a stone blade and began grinding.

Sometime later Sandra approached. "Why are you so worked up? We are about to get revenge and show those cowards how Noxians fight!" She raised her fist across her breast like a good little Noxian soldier and her eyes seemed to shine with the weight of her delusion.

"You know I would have rather just knifed his punk ass and be on with things." Taruk replied.

"But this way we will secure our power in the courtyard and -"

"And what? We stomp our feet and do cartwheels on our new dirt?" Taruk dragged the knife harshly against the stone.

"_And_ we can eat as much bread as we please, sleep in all the nice dog houses, and have the shady spots. That has to be better than what we have now." Sandra insisted with a bit of a frown on her face.

Taruk sighed. She was right, of course. Darius and Sandra had come up with the best plan to push their advantage.

"What has gotten into you Taruk?" She said with a hushed voice as she got closer and sat down on the other side of the stone he was using to grind his knife.

"I… I've been thinking that I am sick and tired of this place."

"Is that it? We all are!" Sandra laughed. "Who among us wants to be here? But don't worry. They can't keep us here forever. Soon they will have to send us to the army." Sandra explained like it solved everyone's problems. Like it was some great salvation.

"I have already seen something come in for Darius."

"What do you mean?" Sandra asked. "In the offices? When you are stealing stories?" This caused Taruk to glance at her in surprise.

"How do you-"

"It's not like I haven't seen you creeping around at night. I see you slink clinging to shadows like a rat." Her voice didn't hold any contempt, but her words still somewhat stung. He knew that she didn't believe in "slinking". He was shocked that she could see him. Maybe he wasn't as gifted as he thought. Or, maybe she was.

"I was learning how to read. The stories were just the material."

"And that's why you were so adamant about bringing that kid in. He was just a tool for you." Her voice was more admiring than anything. He was a bit proud of himself too, but Jerome, wasn't "that kid" to him for long. Now he was a dead friend.

"Yeah."

"So, what are you trying to find? "

"At first, I was trying to find any and all information, but most of it was stuff we had already figured out. So I confirmed things. Food schedules, employee switches, new arrival schedules… And then I started thinking about escaping."

"Where would you go? What would you do? You wouldn't be able to join the army yet. No one would feed you. Do you even know how to steal? Are you taking anyone with you? ... Do you want to?" Sandra was watching him carefully.

"Sandra. You know I don't want to join the army." He could still remember the guards. That killed his father and mother. "I would be out there. I would be _free._"

"I don't understand you. Everyone else wants to join up. Free to die maybe. How would you get out?"

"Sandra, you just told me you caught me slinking into the office. It is only one more door into the night." Taruk ground the blade against the stone between them. "I feel trapped here."

"We all feel trapped here, moron." Sandra said. Did he hear affection in her voice? He thought to himself incredulously. She did seem to be acting a little… off. "It's the Rat Pens. We are the rats and these are our pens."

"It's not just the Rat Pens Sandra. I can see how my whole life plays out and I don't want anything to do with the army. They are not as good as they seem." He closed his eyes tight. His father swung his sword. His mother screamed. And Noxian soldiers grinned. "They are not good people."

"Are you going to be ready for tomorrow?" Sandra asked, not so subtly changing the subject.

"I was ready a week ago."

She got up and punched his arm affectionately. "Don't look so grim or they might just off themselves when they see you coming." Taruk watched her walk away to join Corkin for a sparring bout.

* * *

No one in the courtyard had any disillusions of what was planned for today. Clearly word had spread beyond Kayla and Merain's group and everyone was sticking to the edge of the clearing. When the sun finally reached its apex in the sky Taruk joined his crew and they walked out in a loose group towards James and his group. Except for Jasper who was with the younger Draven.

James stood in front of a line of his friends. His hair was down to his shoulders and he was as wiry as anyone else in the courtyard. He was also prominently displaying a stone carved dagger.

"You punks really want to do this?" James called as they approached. Taruk exchanged a glance with his crew. No one would back down. James was a dead man.

"Fan out. Watch for outsiders. Strength and Power." Darius whispered, bringing a fist across his chest. Riven followed suit and so did Dave.

"Strength and Power."

Taruk didn't bother with a response. While his team played soldier, he would do what he had wanted to do from the start. Jame's group fanned out to match them and just a short distance away was the only person that was going to stop him from gutting James. She had knotted blonde hair and a jagged scar on her collarbone.

They stood just out of arms range. Taruk kept his eyes on the two stone blades she held at the ready in each hand. "Why is the new kid in charge? He beat all - " James wasn't able to finish his cajoling because Sandra suddenly leapt at him. Dust sprayed from her feet and James narrowly avoided her quick jab with her left.

Taruk tore his eyes away as his opponent charged forward. The blonde haired girl brought her right arm in a quick sweep in front of her while her left hand held the dagger defensively.

Taruk stepped around her shorter reach and dropped to a crouch. But only for an instant. And then he was exploding upwards as the girl struggled to spin and face him.

Mercifully, he punched her below the shoulder with his right while holding his dagger to the side. Then he spun on his right foot swinging his left arm against the side of her head. The blow was hard, but her head was harder.

Her right arm continued to whip around her as she spun to catch up with Taruk and caught him on the shoulder with her elbow. And her left arm lanced out with the deadly blade in hand. It punched through the loose fabric on Taruk's side and raked across his skin.

He knew if she hadn't elbowed him first he would have a hole in him. This was _not_ a game. She brought her right arm down in a slow, but deadly chop. He stepped to the side and shoved her arm with his right. She lost balance.

He punched her head with his left hand. She staggered. He punched her with his right. Then left again. She bent over wobbling. He grabbed her shoulders and propelled his knee into her face and tossed her aside.

Surveying the scene, the battle was going well. Kayla and her gang were watching from their edge while Liandra and her crew were moving towards the gate for the bread haul. Sandra was still locked in combat with James. Dave battled nearby and Corkin was currently chasing down a smaller black haired kid.

He scanned around for Darius. He was mysteriously missing from the fight.

It didn't matter to him. James was right there ready to go down. He began to spring across the dust filled space. The air rushed around him.

And then it all came crashing down with a horrible scream. Time seemed frozen. Dave stood as if looking at a bird. His mouth agape in his gut wrench scream. One dagger was buried into his thigh. His opponent had then planted the other between the ribs.

By the sound of the wet scream and the bubbling sound Dave was as good as dead. His opponent ripped the blade free and slammed it into Dave's throat. Taruk surged towards him.

Dave fell to his knees. The scream cut off into a gurgle. Blood bubbled from the wound in his throat. His opponent stabbed down again, this time at his chest.

"Die! Die! Why won't you die!"

Taruk finally reached them. Dave's mutilated body shuddering beneath the larger boy. Taruk flipped his dagger into a hammer grip even as the larger boy continued stabbing at Dave. He brought the dagger down on to the boy's neck, slamming into the spine. Taruk grabbed the boy's head with his other hand and dragged his face into his rising knee.

His right hand let go of the dagger in the boy's neck and he grabbed the boys chin and twisted as hard as he could. It didn't matter though. The kid was already dead.

He found Darius. He was standing in front of Draven who huddled in a shadowy corner. Three of Liandry's crew pinned them in.

_What? They betrayed us!_ Taruk thought furiously. Sandra still fought James. Corkin had run down the kid he was chasing and had turned back to join the fray. Liandry herself was running towards Sandra and one of her lackys was going to intercept Corkin.

_I am going to kill her too!_

"Sandra! Liandry on your right!" Taruk screamed and his voice seemed an octave higher than normal.

Sandra didn't even look to confirm if it was the truth. She ducked beneath one of James's punches and somersaulted backwards. Liandry had to abruptly stop to avoid careening into James. Sandra, on the other hand, flipped back into a standing position holding both stone daggers in a hammer grip to her sides.

Taruk reached her side.

Their eyes briefly met. She was crying! _Why was she crying?_ But she was. Not a slobbery mess, but tears welled in her eyes all the same.

Taruk focused on James. "I am going to gut you."

James looked past Taruk to the body of one of his friends resting near Dave's corpse.

"I think I am going to cut each of your fingers off one at a time asshole!" James rushed at him. Sandra spun away and Liandry jumped after her.

James was covered in shallow cuts. On his cheek. Across his forehead. On his ear. Seven on his arms. Three on his right thigh. His shirt was torn to shreds, but he seemed fine despite the multitude of wounds.

Taruk lunged forward and James only barely dodged away from his probing jab. James leapt at him with abandon. Taruk was almost so surprised that it would have worked, but at the last moment he leapt away from the large boys pinwheeling arms.

James crashed past him. His back was to him. The moment past as Taruk hesitated in surprise yet again. James charged back at him screaming. "Stop running whoreson!"

Taruk wouldn't hesitate again.

James charged at him as if to tackle him. His arms stretched out to the sides holding the two daggers. The sight would have been comical if the boy wasn't trying to brutally murder him. At the last moment he ducked below the outstretched arms much as he had seen Sandra do. But unlike Sandra, he lashed out with lethality. One dagger plunged deep into the boys side and the other cut deep into his opposite shoulder. When James managed to turn around his right arm would only rise slightly.

"I'm going to kill you, you miserable bitch!" James roared. He swung with his left arm and Taruk let it graze past his shoulder before whipping his own right arm forward into James's gut. He viciously wrenched the dagger, tugging hard to the left as he ripped it free.

James whimpered. And fell backwards onto his backside.

"Oh my gods! Oh my gods!" He screamed. One of his hands pressed to his stomach, but blood welled up past it. "Oh, mommy! I want my mother. Oh gods, I'm dying."

Taruk felt a sudden urge to vomit, but forced it down. He kicked James in the side of the head and jumped on to his prone figure, plunging his blade into the chubby boys neck. James's blood sprayed into his eyes and then a second heartbeat sent blood spirting past Taruk's shoulder.

And then. It was over. James's heart had stopped, and so had the blood.

Taruk whipped his head back towards Sandra and Liandry. Liandry was backed against the fence and Sandra stood in front of her panting. Her red hair pushed by the breeze and a small drip of blood oozed from a shallow cut in her cheek.

Liandry was covered in small cuts. Her daggers were in the dirt and it seemed like she had surrendered.

Sandra had turned to look back towards the corner. Where Darius and Draven were. _Shit._ Taruk followed her gaze to what he assumed to be a grim sight. And it was.

Just not what he had expected.

Darius had a smaller kid pinned beneath his hulking mass. Blood was splattered in the dirt around them. An unbelievable amount of blood. Draven was still huddling in the corner. _Where was Jasper?_ Taruk looked around frantically. The boy was nowhere to be seen. He forced himself to his feet and ran to Darius. Sandra stayed with Liandry, who was retching.

As he approached Darius the smell of blood was overwhelming. Before he could get closer the gates began to rattle as the heavy beam holding them shut was moved. And then they began rattling along their rails.

He turned and fled to their dog houses. Sandra was racing behind him. Darius finally got up from his body. It was a mutilated mess. Not just stabbed. Flayed. Butchered. He ripped his gaze away as he raced away from the scene. A guardsman entered the clearing.

"You fuckin twats had better run an' hide. There anymore killin in here the boss will have the lot of you whipped and sold to the highest bidder right here and now!" He bellowed, waving a sword about him.

He dove into the nearest dog house. And crawled to the back. He smelled the blood. He felt the stabbing. The sickening thump of his blade colliding with bone. The sinking sensation as it plunged through muscle. He felt the retching sensation. He tried to fight it down.

He saw Darius looming over the body. With the skin pulled away. The rib cage crushed.

He vomited.

He didn't even notice Sandra hurtle into the doghouse behind him until he heard her vomiting too.

When they had finished Sandra looked at him. Tears running down her cheeks leaving trails of clean soft skin behind.

"I couldn't do it Taruk." She whispered, tortured.


End file.
